


Three Times Hannah Shepard Spent New Year’s Eve Alone, and One Time She Didn’t

by ferociousqueak



Series: Allistair Shepard [5]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Gen, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17331101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferociousqueak/pseuds/ferociousqueak
Summary: I think the title pretty much says it all.





	1. December 31, 2148

It wasn’t technically New Year’s Eve. At least, not on Mars. That was still a few months away, but as far as Hannah could tell, that just meant the base would have another reason for a party. Which meant Hannah would take an entire week amping herself up to socialize with the other military wives and husbands just to spend another evening standing with an empty red cup at the edge of conversations she had little hope of entering.

She didn’t understand it. She’d been the new kid in school more times than she cared to remember, and never had it been so difficult to integrate herself into a new social circle. Not having anything in common with the people she hoped to befriend had never been a problem before. But the military spouses on Mars seemed to sense something about her, something lacking. They smiled their plastic smiles and then turned their shoulders away from her to talk to each other instead.

If Michael were there, the rejection might sting less. But when they found all that weird tech, the UNAS top brass had picked him, in particular, to work security detail at all those big international talks on Earth, something about establishing some kind of alliance. It was a good opportunity for Michael. He’d get to rub elbows with all kinds of dignitaries and high-ranking officers who might be good to know when he decided it was time to advance to spec ops. Hannah spending New Year’s Eve alone among strangers who regarded gum on their shoe with more interest than they did her was a small inconvenience. A passing unpleasantness in service to a long-term goal that would benefit them both.

Hannah tipped her cup, watching the last remaining drops of bright red punch slide around the bottom and sighed. She set down the cup and left without excusing herself. Not that anyone would notice her absence and wonder where she’d gone.

When she entered the cramped family quarters, she removed the shimmery, neon green headband announcing the incoming year and made her way to the bathroom to start removing her makeup. Nowhere on Earth had reached midnight yet, but she didn’t particularly care. If she’d been back in Vancouver, she’d at least still have some friends from high school she could call up for some impromptu shenanigans. Then again, maybe not. Most of them had scattered across the UNAS for uni and were probably too poor to make it home for the holidays.

Hannah rubbed at the freshly naked skin under her eyes and groaned. “Home.”

The sound of her voice, the only thing disturbing the stillness of the small apartment, nearly startled her, and she leaned over the bathroom sink to thunk her head against the water-spotted mirror. She glanced to the side to check the bathroom clock and thunked her head again.

After changing her dress and stockings for sweats and a T-shirt, Hannah plopped onto the sofa in the living room and started up the communicator. Her parents almost never stayed up until midnight on New Year’s Eve, and it was already getting late in Vancouver so maybe they wouldn’t—

“Emily MacLeod speaking,” a prim voice answered.

Hannah scrunched her eyes and nearly hung up. “Hi, Mom. Happy New Year.”

“Hannah!” The sound of surprise and relief in Mom’s voice was unmistakable. “Well, what a surprise! I didn’t realize it was New Year’s Eve on Mars too.”

“It’s, um, it’s not,” Hannah said. “But everyone here celebrates it anyway. How’s . . . things?”

Hannah winced at herself and silently let her head fall into her hands. She’d only called home a couple times since following Michael to Mars a few months ago. Maybe she’d call more if she didn’t think Mom would tell her what a mess she was making of her life by not going to college or that she’d gotten married to someone who was practically a stranger or that she’d had such high hopes for Hannah and what happened to all her potential—

“It was a quiet Christmas,” Mom said warmly. “We missed you, but we know it’s not easy to get a transport from Mars to Earth on a moment’s notice. Did you and Michael have a good Christmas?”

Hannah felt the tension in her chest loosen. Okay, so this was going to be a good call then. “Yeah, it was . . . just the two of us. A couple families around us had parities, but we decided to keep to ourselves. How’s, um, how’s Dad? The company keeping his old bones busy?”

Mom _tsk_ ’d. “Oh, you know them. They tried to send him to Samoa just two days before Christmas, if you can believe it. Two days!”

Mom had found her current and Hannah felt comfortable letting her talk, adding her own acknowledgements now and then. It was familiar, listening to Mom talk like this. If Hannah closed her eyes, she could imagine being in her parents’ kitchen, one leg thrown over the arm of a chair and playing a handheld game while she listened to her mother prattle on about the little dramas of her life. Of course, if that had been where she actually was, Mom would scold Hannah about her posture and how rude it is to split her attention between a conversation and a game. But Hannah didn’t want to think about that. She just wanted to feel at home. For just a few minutes.

“Is everything all right, my dear,” Mom’s voice broke through Hannah’s thoughts.

Hannah opened here eyes and leaned forward, more attentive. “Yeah. Great. Everything’s fine. Just wanted to get in a ‘Happy New Year’ before the clocks changed over at home.” The word stuck in her throat and she had to clear it to keep her voice from breaking. “Is Dad still awake?”

There was a pause on the other end before Mom answered, her voice growing somber. “You know him, dear. As soon as the sun goes down, his batteries run out these days. Your brothers are at friends’ houses tonight, so it’s just me. How about Michael? Is he there? I would love to wish him a proper happy New Year.”

Hannah shook her head and coughed. “No, it’s, uh, it’s just me. He’s on an assignment right now. Hand-picked. Should be good for his career too. He said he’d take lots of pictures while he’s in New York.”

Mom made a _psh_ noise. “New York is overrated. Mars is much more exciting. He has no idea what he’s missing.”

Hannah half-cried and half-laughed. “You’d be surprised.” She coughed again. “Anyway. Happy New Year. Love you, Mom.”

“Happy New Year, Hannah Banana.” Mom’s voice was so gentle Hannah nearly burst into tears. “Come home soon.”

Hannah disconnected the call only seconds before her shoulders began to shake and the tears spilled down her cheeks in rivulets. She’d be okay, she knew she’d be okay. She just needed to cry for a minute. Everything would be fine after that.


	2. December 31, 2150

It wasn’t technically New Year’s Eve. At least, not on Arcturus. But then, when was the start of the station’s “year”? Had someone made note of it yet? Did a few steel beams and an army of astrobuilders get to have a year? Yes, they were already following an orbital path. By even the most basic definition of a “year,” it would still take at least a few months before they got there.

Hannah sat cross-legged in her bunk, reviewing the next day’s flight plans for what felt like the fifty-billionth time that night. Normally, the other bunks would be filled with sleeping soldiers, but the barracks were empty save for Hannah and her work ethic. Everyone was off at some party, probably getting far too drunk and being much louder than Hannah was comfortable with.

She glanced up from her work—only an hour to zero-dark hundred, Zulu time. Leaning over to open her footlocker, Hannah pulled out a small bottle of champagne she’d bought on a whim from the commissary on Mars just before shipping out. She might be spending another New Year’s Eve alone, but at least this time she was finally old enough to enjoy a little bubbly in her solitude.

Hannah felt her communicator buzz next to her leg. “Lieutenant Hannah Shepard,” she answered.

“I’ll never get used to that,” said a voice that made her smile automatically. “I mean, there you are building the future command hub of the Alliance, while I’m stuck spending my leave mucking out horse stalls in the freezing cold. Absolutely amazing.”

Hannah grinned. “I do have help.”

She could practically feel Michael crossing his arms in faux frustration. “Yeah, but none of that would be happening if you weren’t there.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that if I never even existed, they would find someone just as qualified to do the job.”

Michael gave an exaggerated sigh. “Just let me be proud of my wife, okay?”

Hannah chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way.” She could sense Michael grow serious on the other end of the line and spoke quickly, before he could. “Things are going well here. Construction’s finally getting started. We’ll be home in a few months when the relief team gets here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael said, the tone of disappointment clear in his voice. “I just wish you were here. It’s not fair that you’re so far away during the holidays. Christmas. New Year. Even Valentine’s Day. The Alliance gets you for all the sexiest days.”

Despite the attempt at levity, Hannah could hear everything Michael wasn’t saying and silently hoped he wouldn’t start that argument again. “That’s the job, Michael. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know,” he said, an unspoken apology in his voice. “I just miss you, that’s all.”

Hannah half-smiled, relieved he’d decided to let the subject drop. “I miss you too. But this will be good for me. For us. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a recommendation to Oceanic Flight Training in Rio out of this.”

“Of course you will,” he said, a smile in his voice. “You’re brilliant.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “How are things in High River?” she said, changing the subject. “Any snow to shovel yet?”

He chuckled, a low, resonant sound that warmed Hannah to her core and made her smile. “Only about seven or eight, oh, I don’t know, _feet_.” Hannah rolled her eyes at the exaggeration. “Mom outdid herself with Christmas dinner, again. Dad’s only yelled at the news about a dozen times since I arrived, which is an improvement for him.” Michael gave a contented sigh. “At least I know things will always be the same here, no matter how many times I go to space.”

Hannah glanced out the port window at the slow-moving builders welding pieces of the station together, even at this hour. It really was like something out of a science fiction novel.

A group of very drunk soldiers stumbled noisily into the barracks, laughing and almost shouting at each other. Hannah sighed. “Looks like things are about to get loud in here,” she said. “I’ll be home before you know it. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Michael said. “Get home soon.”

Hannah disconnected and leaned against her palm, scanning the flight plans still spread out in front of her. After a moment, she gathered them up and tucked them away. She plucked up the small bottle of champagne and walked past the merry band of drunk soldiers out of the barracks.

The Flight Deck was blessedly abandoned, the helm turned over to the ship’s autopilot so that the human pilots could join in the festivities. It wasn’t like aliens were suddenly going to appear and start shooting at them, anyway.

Hannah got comfortable in the jumpseat and pulled at the cork on the bottle until it came loose with a pleasant _pop_ that made her giggle. The bubbles tickled her tongue, and she felt her cheeks warm as she sipped the cold alcohol. She brought her knees to her chin and hugged them, taking in a long, contented breath.

She watched the stars twinkling, wondering which one was home, until an uproar from somewhere below decks drew her attention. She raised the small bottle to the stars, to wherever home was, and took another drink.


	3. December 31, 2165

It wasn’t technically New Year’s Eve. At least, not on _Einstein_. Not that it really mattered, or even made sense. A year was a unit of measurement, the time it took for a celestial body to take a turn around a star. On Earth it was 365 days, sometimes 366. On Mars, it was 687 days, sometimes 688. On Arcturus, it was longer, and sometimes even longer than that.

 _Einstein_ had no star. It just . . . drifted. Through eternal night. Through lethal cold and vacuum. Hannah put her hand to the bulkhead, the unyielding metal chilling her palm and making her shiver. On just the other side was certain death. It’d be instantaneous, nearly painless. Such a thin separation between life and death when you thought about it. Practically a veil.

The clatter of an overturned tray and a wave of laughter somewhere broke through Hannah’s musings. She shook her head, remembering the party the rest of the crew were having. It was never ideal to be on tour during the holidays, but this was _Einstein_ ’s first deployment since arriving at the Citadel. Everyone was in high spirits, proud to be crew to the newest and most advanced carrier in the Alliance Navy.

Hannah let her hand fall from the bulkhead and she returned to her checklists, inspecting the bridge for the third time in three days. She knew she wouldn’t find anything, but it occupied her hands and her mind enough to keep from falling apart. XOs didn’t fall apart.

“Ma’am. Ma’am? Commander Shepard?”

Hannah blinked and shook her head at the sound of the voice calling her. A young officer with curly brown hair and hazel eyes stared down at her, concern creasing his brow. “Zabaleta,” Hannah greeted him finally. “I didn’t see you there. Why aren’t you celebrating with the rest of the crew.”

“I was, I mean I will,” he said haltingly. “But the admiral wanted me to tell you to meet her in her office.”

Hannah nodded. With any luck, Drescher would have an assignment for her that was more than just inspections. “Thank you, Zabaleta. I’ll be right there.”

Hannah took the elevator to the cabin deck, the noise of the party fading mercifully when the doors closed behind her.

“Admiral?” she said, knocking on the door post when she reached the office. “You wanted to see me?”

Drescher looked up from the datapad she’d been reading and smiled softly at Hannah. “Yes, Commander. Please come in and take a seat.” Hannah made for the chair, but Drescher stopped her, standing and moving from behind her desk. “Not there, Shepard. There.”

Hannah followed the direction Drescher pointed to and saw that she meant the sofa nestled in the corner of the office. As she made her way warily toward that corner, Drescher opened a cabinet on the other side of the room and produced a bottle and glasses—tumblers, not champagne flutes, but that was the military for you. Drescher joined Hannah on the couch and set down the glasses as she uncorked the champagne.

“I have an assignment for you, Hannah,” Drescher said as she picked up the first glass and poured a liberal portion, letting the head dissipate some before pouring more. “Stop working.”

Hannah took the glass when Drescher offered it to her but didn’t drink from it. “I’m not working,” she said weakly, not believing even her own tone. “Just a few chores. Nothing big.”

Drescher filled her own glass and sat across from Hannah. “Just a few chores,” she said, clearly unconvinced. “Of course. God forbid the helm accumulate a speck of dust or two from one day to the next.” She grew more serious and sipped her champagne. “The holidays can be hard, Hannah. Especially after losing someone you care—”

“Please, Ma’am,” Hannah stopped her, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about him.” She sighed and finally sipped at her champagne. “I’m just a little homesick, I guess.”

Drescher nodded. “Tell me about home.”

The slideshow of images flashed through Hannah’s mind so quickly, she could hardly separate them. Alli running up to her at the end of the day and hugging her around the waist. Snow and a real Christmas tree in the corner of her parents’ living room. Dess ribbing her at the arena before a match.

Hannah took a longer sip, not wanting to linger too long on that last image lest even more complex feelings started to chew at the already fraying ends of her emotions. “That’s a more complicated request than you think, Ma’am.”

“Please, Hannah,” Drescher said, only the slightest, gentlest hint of admonition in her voice. She raised her glass and tipped it toward Hannah. “I’m not your commanding officer right now. Kastanie is fine.”

Hannah nodded. “I appreciate that, ma—Kastanie.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t think I know where home is anymore, to be honest. _Einstein_ is too new and . . . cold. I haven’t been back to Vancouver in years. I don’t think I’m connected enough to the Citadel yet to feel . . . Arcturus is probably the closest, but I don’t live there anymore and the memories I have from my time there are . . . soured.” Hannah shrugged and set her glass down. She put her elbows on her knees and rubbed her face in her palms.

Drescher nodded, remaining quiet as Hannah worked through her thoughts. “I imagine,” she said at length, “that if the enlistment brochures talked about leaving everyone you love behind—not once, but over and again—as much as they talked about adventure and honor and fraternity, we’d have trouble filling the ranks.”

Hannah wanted to laugh but her throat was too painfully tight to let out more than a huff. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you tell a joke before.”

Drescher grinned, her dark eyes sparkling. “Was that a joke? It’s hard to tell sometimes. Maybe it’s because I’m German.”

Hannah picked up her glass again and took a slow, considering sip. “Do you have any resolutions?”

Drescher shook her head. “I don’t usually do that sort of thing. What about you?”

Hannah stood and walked to the picture window behind Drescher’s desk. She’d toasted the stars once, all those New Year’s Eves ago. Before Alli. Before Shanxi. Before Michael and his uncounted betrayals. Before Dess. She’d felt so hopeful then, like her life had been somewhere among those twinkling lanterns. Like anything was possible. _Anything_. She’d had no idea how right she’d been. If she had known, would she still have raised her glass? To a future of being alone, unmoored, adrift? Lonely?

“Not anymore.”


	4. December 31, 2167

It wasn’t technically New Year’s Eve. At least, not on the Citadel. Nonetheless, the livestream from the Time Square block party streamed in the background as everyone prepared to settle in for the long wait until “midnight.”

A simple strand of colorful Christmas lights still glowed against the walls, the Advent calendar still hung with all its doors open, and the very last bites of the turkey—now inside a tetrazzini that Hannah had actually gotten right this year in what was, without a doubt, a Christmas miracle—sat chilling in the fridge. If Hannah closed her eyes, she could convince herself that she wasn’t currently spinning slowly, impossibly, on an ancient station in a nebula light-years from Earth. At any moment, she knew she could looked out the window to see snow and other brightly colored houses, not flying cars and an amethyst “sky.”

“Hey, hey, stop running!” Hannah called after the blur that was supposed to be her daughter. “You’re gonna break your neck and then we’ll have to ring in the new year in the Emergency Room.”

She felt a hand on her hip, letting her know she wasn’t alone as Dess maneuvered around her toward the refrigerator. “A few broken bones never hurt anyone,” she said, flicking a grin. “It builds character.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and tossed the bag of grixen in the microwave. “Broken bones, fine, but I’m also worried about broken furniture. I can make a new kid for free if I want, but a new couch is expensive.”

Dess chuckled and plucked up two bottles, offering one to Hannah. “I’m afraid I don’t have the equipment to make a new kid, but I’m happy to help you practice.”

“Lech,” Hannah said, biting her lip and taking the offered bottle. “When’s your New Year, anyway?”

Hannah turned to head out of the kitchen and into the living room as the grixen started to crackle, Dess following right behind her. “Which one? Palaven’s new year? Taetrus’s? The Citadel’s?”

Hannah shrugged. “The one you look forward to most. The one with the biggest party.”

Sana was already knelt in front of the coffee table, adding marshmallows to two steaming cups of cocoa. “Those two are not necessarily the same,” she said, reaching into the bag for more marshmallows. “The Ravakas always throw a lavish party to greet the New Year, and everyone who is anyone is in attendance.”

Hannah nodded, not wanting to tread too far into a conversation about Dess’s family—this was supposed to be a happy night. “I never did like big parties like that,” she said, deliberately side-stepping the real issue. “I’ll watch the one at Time Square, but this is about as close as I’d like to get to it myself.”

Dess chuckled, but Hannah could hear the somber tone in her voice. “Those parties were exciting when I was younger—”

“Wilder,” Sana corrected her without looking up.

“—but I don’t miss them,” she said and shrugged. “They got claustrophobic after a while.”

Alli came bounding down the stairs holding several brightly colored boxes under an arm. “We have choices!”

“Mhm,” Hannah said as she knelt at the coffee table with her back against the sofa, opposite Sana, as Alli dropped the boxes. “One of those choices better not be Monopoly.”

Dess sat on the couch, her leg brushing against Hannah’s arm. “Afraid of losing to your own kid again?”

“She says like she doesn’t lose to my kid every time too,” Hannah said with false haughtiness. “Besides, she only wins because she teams up with Sana. Nowhere in the rules does it say you can enter alliances to take down the other players.”

Alli plopped on the ground next to Sana and slid one of the mugs toward herself. “But there’s no rule against it either. It’s like the game is practically begging me to do it, Mom.”

Hannah shook her head indulgently and scanned the boxes. Trivial Pursuit was out, unfortunately—not enough overlap in trivia for all of them. Scrabble was out for a similar reason. Parcheesi could work, or maybe Settlers of Catan.

“How about Risk,” Dess chimed in. “I like that one.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Of course _you_ do. We could just do a puzzle too.”

“No, let’s play Sequence!” Alli said, reaching for the box without waiting for either objection or agreement.

Hannah smiled as she took a sip from her drink. “Sequence it is. I’m green.”

Sana sat placidly, her attention still on her hot chocolate as she blew on it. Hannah couldn’t tell if Sana was just being cautious about the heat or if she was just reluctant.

“It’s okay, Ms. Sana,” Alli said, clearly reading the same expression on Sana. “Kardi’s had hot chocolate and it didn’t do anything to her. You should drink it before it gets cold, though.”

Sana turned up one corner of her mouth into a half grin and took a slow sip. It took only a moment before Sana’s eyes went wide and she put a hand to her mouth. “This is delicious!”

Dess chuckled. “It must be. That’s the most excited I’ve seen you about any kind of food.”

The microwave chimed and Dess stood to get the grixen while Alli set up the boardgame and Sana took another, more eager sip of her cocoa.

The game went about the way Hannah expected it to. Alli won under suspicious circumstances and with questionable tactics, but ultimately within the rules. And after that, there were only a couple of hours to go before the ball dropped, so they settled in to watch a vid. There was a heated debate, but in the end, Hannah’s choice of _With Love, From Mars_ won out. It was an unconventional holiday movie, but it was a classic from the 2120s.

The movie ended with only ten minutes to go before midnight in New York, and Alli was stretched across the sofa like a cat, snoring softly with her head in Hannah’s lap, one lanky leg falling over the side of the sofa, and the other leg stretched across Sana’s lap. Sana, however, didn’t seem to mind—her head was propped against one hand, her eyes closed like steel doors and her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep.

Hannah was leaned up against Dess underneath her arm and looked up at her. “I hate to do it,” she whispered, “but I think it’s time to put her to bed.”

Dess nodded and slowly, carefully pulled away from Hannah, letting her ease up without waking Alli. “You take care of her and I’ll take care of Sana.”

Hannah nodded and gently lifted Alli. “Come on, starshine. You’re too big to carry these days.”

Alli lifted her head and opened her eyes a sliver. She fell again into Hannah’s lap, and Hannah nearly laughed . . . until the pins and needles spread like wildfire over her thigh. She bit her lip and took a deep breath before lifting Alli again. “Let’s go, you. Off to bed.”

Alli sat up again, her eyes still closed and her hair tangled and mashed to one side. She stood and swayed, still in her zombie phase. Hannah stood too, gingerly avoiding putting weight on her leg while feeling came back to it. She put her hands on Alli’s shoulders and carefully guided her toward the stairs. Dess followed behind them, and Hannah could feel her silent laughter without even looking at her.

When Hannah steered Alli into her room, Dess continued down the hall to grab a blanket and pillow for Sana. Alli fell directly onto her bed as soon as she reached it and resumed her snoring. Laughing silently herself now—the pins and needles were finally starting to retreat—Hannah reached down to lift Alli’s legs and tuck them safely under the covers.

“I love you, starshine,” she whispered and kissed Alli’s forehead. “Happy New Year.”

At the bottom of the stairs, she saw Dess carefully replacing Sana’s arm with a pillow and pulling a blanket over her. When she was done, she looked up at Hannah, her mandibles flared softly in a gentle smile.

“It’s too bad they didn’t stay up for the whole thing,” she whispered, approaching Hannah where she stood leaning against the wall near the stairs.

Hannah shrugged. “Technically, midnight passed in London about five hours ago. It’s 2168 somewhere on Earth already.”

The vid screen had returned to the Time Square block party, and the announcer talked loudly about how they were now only minutes away from the ball dropping. Hannah went back to the coffee table and picked up the remote to turn down the volume. Collecting the empty mugs and bottles, she quietly carried them into the kitchen and placed them in the sink, not wanting to make too much noise. They could wait until tomorrow morning for a proper cleaning.

Back in the living room, Dess was just as quietly tapping the decks of cards together and slipping the board back into its box. In New York, the countdown began. _Ten! Nine! Eight!_

Smirking, Hannah walked up to Dess and took her hands, pulling her up to meet her gaze. “There’s another very important New Year’s Eve tradition,” she said, “but I need your help for it.”

Dess nodded seriously. “Of course. Anything.”

_Three! Two!_

Hannah put her hand to Dess’s neck and pulled her down as she lifted on her toes. She pressed her lips to Dess’s mouth and felt her take in a breath. She felt Dess slip her fingers up the back of her neck and tangle in her hair, returning Hannah’s pressure. Smiling into the kiss, Hannah relished the pounding of her heart and the warmth in her arms. A whole new year spread before her, and she knew exactly what her resolution would be.

Slowly, Hannah broke the kiss and lowered herself again, still smiling and biting her lip. “Happy New Year,” she whispered.

“I think I can get behind this tradition,” Dess whispered back, a little breathless.

Hannah’s smile widened, and she pressed her forehead to Dess’s. She was going to spend the new year finally at home.


End file.
